


Only In Indiana

by clindzy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Possessive Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clindzy/pseuds/clindzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can't help the anxiety he feels when Sam is out of his sight for more than ten minutes after the Trials, the Mark and everything else they've dealt with. So when a simple hunt goes sideways, his protective and possessive side comes out raging full force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only In Indiana

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oh-jesus-sammy (supernaturalblackhole1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturalblackhole1/gifts).



> Prompted by one of my favorites, oh-jesus-sammy, this fic is all for her. Hurt Sam is new for me so I hope I did it justice. More importantly, I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> xx,  
> Cait

Hammond, Indiana

March 1, 2016

 

“Fucking teenagers,” Dean muttered, yanking his collar up higher against his neck, trying to brace against the frigid temperature, knowing as he did so that it was a futile effort.

 

He was getting too old to be wandering miles deep into dark forest in the worst of a winter freeze that Indiana had seen in years. Continuing to mutter curses, he stomped forward, hoping to regain feeling in his legs and to find this skinwalker that had been dodging Sam and him for two days.

 

A half mile away, Sam was trudging through brush, one hand on his Taurus and the other on his flashlight. He was so focused on following the tracks in front of him, the broken branches scattered on the path and the snow banks on either sides of him that he failed to notice the ravine in front of him, only partially covered with spindly limbs from overhead trees.

 

At the sound of snow crunching and branches snapping, Sam whipped around suddenly, losing his footing. He found himself laying flat on his back staring at a black velvet sky studded with stars.

 

“What the hell,” Sam said, bringing his hands up, trying to assess the damage to his head, wincing when he saw blood.

 

Of course, it had to be the teenagers from the local high school that stumbled on something they shouldn’t have seen; not many places to rebel in a place like this.

 

Sam didn’t get too much time to think about why a skinwalker had made his home in the freezing cold woods in Indiana in the dead of winter or that he should get a hold of Dean to let him know where he was before he saw the monster looming over him, eyes glittering maniacally.

 

It had been two hours since Dean had heard from Sam and the niggling feeling that something was wrong had kicked in over an hour ago. He admitted to himself that he was worried about Sammy. Ever since those damn trials, he just couldn’t seem to let him out of his sight for longer than ten minutes without feeling anxiety settle in and worm around his heart. Screw this, he was going to find Sam; that skinwalker could wait.

 

Cackling while grasping his arms, the skinwalker breathed out and Sam shuddered. This had to be the most revolting one of its kind that he and Dean had ever hunted. Noticing his disgust, the monster yanked him by his bad shoulder and started dragging him down the cold, icy path.

 

“Oh, we’re going to have to so much fun, you and I,” the skinwalker said in a singsong voice.

 

“You won’t get half a chance to lay a finger on me or anyone else, I promise you that,” Sam threatened, gulping against the dryness in his throat.

 

“But where are my manners, I must introduce myself. I’m Vince and I’m taking you to meet my brother Vance.”

 

All Sam could think was _only in Indiana would I find a skinwalker with a brother._

Sam nodded and managed to grit out his name, “I’m Sam.” Vince’s fingers were digging straight into his bones and the ice against his exposed back and head were only making things a hundred times worse. He could almost guarantee that he needed stitches in his head at least. His shoulder was screaming at him, shards of glass piercing him would have felt better at this point.

 

Dean found the trailhead that he had left Sam at only hours before, working his way down until he saw the broken branches, the ravine and blood. His blood began to boil, sizzle and threaten to crack his skin wide open. It was like having the Mark all over again. No way in hell he was letting some two bit monster take his Sammy from him. Alight with determination, Dean pulled out his Colt and began tracking Sam and his abductor down the icy trail.

 

“Just hang on Sammy, I’m coming,” Dean vowed.

 

Vince drug Sam for two miles down a bumpy, ice covered, debris littered path. If Sam hadn’t been in excruciating pain in damn near every part of his body, he would have drawn into his reserves and used his sheer physical advantage to overpower Vince.

 

Vince ran up the porch steps like an overgrown puppy as soon as he saw Vance sitting outside, waiting for him.

 

“Look what I have for you brother!”

 

Vance smiled indulgently. “Vince is ‘special’. I hope that he didn’t hurt you on your way here.”

 

Sam’s stomach dropped and rolled. He had expected a matched set of simpletons; this was far worse.

 

“What’s your name, dear boy,” Vance asked, licking his lips, eyes gleaming predatorily in the dim light.

 

Using what little strength he had left, Sam drew up to his full height and replied, “I’m Sam Winchester.”

 

Vance smirked and stood up from his chair, crossing to where Sam was at the bottom of the porch steps. Sam barely held back his shudders of revulsion or the epithets that threatened to follow.

 

“Been a long time since we’ve had a hunter to play with, hasn’t it Vince?”

 

Vince grinned widely, nodding so hard that Sam was worried his neck might snap from the effort.

 

Dean had just made it to the top of the driveway to see this exchange. He was seething with rage, jealousy and protectiveness. Not very often did he allow any of those free rein but right now those were secondary to saving the one who was his everything.

 

“Put one hand on him and I’ll shoot your brother first, Vance,” Dean growled, his gold green eyes flashing with only emotions that Sam could recognize but barely name.

 

Vince slowly backed away, having lost interest at being his brother’s patsy. Vance walked across the yard, clearly not afraid of Dean or the gun in his hand. He brushed his hand through Sam’s limp hair, squeezing his neck.

 

Something primal sparked in Dean and he was left staring at Vance with two bullet holes in his skull, blood staining the snow as an ode to all the other monsters the Winchesters had killed. Vince stood in front of Dean, shaking like a leaf, knees knocking together and quite possibly ready to soil himself.

 

“No one touches Sam, **ever**.” Dean let the words hang heavy in the air, sinking into Vance’s already rotting corpse.

 

Sam looked at Dean, asking him what to do about Vince, without saying a word.

 

“Vince, I’m going to let you go, because I seriously doubt that you’re even smart enough to open a candy bar,” Dean said bluntly.

 

“T-t-thank you!” Vince exclaimed, already backing away from his dead brother and the Winchester brothers.

 

“One condition though, if you ever come across our radar again, you will find both our guns against your skull,” Sam said calmly, threat no less real or present in his voice as was in his brother’s.

 

As soon as Vince had run off into whatever other hellhole he had for himself, Dean took Sam into his arms.

 

“Don’t do that to me, Sammy…not after everything we’ve been through,” Dean begged, aware of the tears that were threatening to spill onto his wind chapped cheeks.

 

Sam just pressed himself closer into Dean, no words could express how he felt right now; all he wanted was their bed back home in the bunker and a hot shower.

 

“Let’s go home to the bunker, Dean. And promise me something.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“No more hunts in Indiana!”


End file.
